Here is one weird thing about this book: It's about six hundred pages long, but about a third of that is pictures.
Here's another thing about this booHere is one weird thing about this book: It's about six hundred pages long, but about a third of that is pictures.
Here's another thing about this book: during intense passages about things like rape, there will be pictures of porny-ass ol' Jenna with a gallon of lipstick on showing up her butt, or something. Which could totally work in two ways: either as total, 'you are reading this for the porniness' exploitive cash-in, or in a meta, 'here is the reality, looks how different it is from the way it's portrayed' kind of commentary way. But instead I honestly couldn't figure out which it was supposed to be, and ultimately, I kinda feel like it was just to make Jenna's autobiography an Event Tome instead of, y'know, a porn star memoir. Which works- it is huge and cinderblocky.
Another weird thing is how ghost-written it feels. Alex said that Jenna Jameson is hella smart and articulate and all the things we say when we mean 'the assumption that comes with her background is that she's stupid, but the reality is that she's not,' and I totally believe her. But that doesn't always translate to writing, right? I know absolute conversational intelligent geniuses whose e-mails and letters are strings of cliches and stiff phrases. So I've got nothing against Neil Strauss as her, uh, co-author. It's just weird how, like, the prose slightly has character and slightly doesn't. Not to resort to one of the hackneyedest metaphors about writing in the world, but it's like potato soup where the only spice is a little bit of salt. I wish that her voice had come through more, because the sentences themselves read like they could have been written by literally anybody in the world, if they were co-writing a book with a professional paragraph-churner.
I guess the only other weird thing I want to mention is how, like, if you take out the specifics- the fame, the porn, that kinda stuff- her life is just pretty much everybody else's life. Like, a few fucked up relationships, a little overboard on the substances, the amount of money she has is none and then a lot and then not much and then ultimately enough. Which I'm sure, also, is the point- it's just weird to get to the end of six hundred pages and read that somebody in their, what, late twenties? Is at the same point emotionally that I am in my late twenties. What am I supposed to do with that, if I already knew that sex workers were real people with real lives? I just felt like I didn't take much away from it.
Um, so whatever. It was fine. It's probably not worth thirty bucks though. Is it in paperback? I'd wait for the paperback, if it's not. ...more
Basically, Kathy Acker totally rules and gets all the punk stuff right, without all the annoying stuff. She is the punkest ever, in a really intelligeBasically, Kathy Acker totally rules and gets all the punk stuff right, without all the annoying stuff. She is the punkest ever, in a really intelligent way, which is hard to pull off. ...more
I can't believe I didn't review this thing! I read it last year sometime and I was totally sucked in, even though there isn't really a plot or anythinI can't believe I didn't review this thing! I read it last year sometime and I was totally sucked in, even though there isn't really a plot or anything. Like I said somewhere else, it's basically metafictional PKD yelling GOD CAN SUCK MY DICK at a typewriter for 200 pages, which seems like it would lose its charm after, y'know, a little while, but it doesn't. So. ...more
This read like it was from 1953. I'm not sure what to tell you. The language around race reads like a white person wrote it in 1953, which is pretty uThis read like it was from 1953. I'm not sure what to tell you. The language around race reads like a white person wrote it in 1953, which is pretty uncomfortable, and I'm not super excited about the dingy glamour of urban addicts' lives, so that wasn't the most exciting thing for me, either. But I think the important thing here is that this laid the groundwork for so much awesome stuff that would come after it, and invented a lot of narrative stuff, that it's still pretty badass. I mean, it's old and I hate old things but I still didn't get bored and put it down. ...more
Haha, man. Somebody sold a bunch of gender books to my store and I tried and tried not to buy them, but this shit is like a magnet to me! They're likeHaha, man. Somebody sold a bunch of gender books to my store and I tried and tried not to buy them, but this shit is like a magnet to me! They're like my own, personal, brand of heroin. So of course I bought them, and I'm reading them, and they're triggering the shit out of me- wait til I finish My Husband Betty, by my sworn enemy Helen Boyd; I will have choice words- but it's also nice to fill in these gaps in my life. Like, before I transitioned, I knew that this book existed, and I was curious about it, and now I know! Fill in that blank.
And for what it is, it's fine. It didn't fuck me up as badly as I expected it to, and it didn't have the fucked up attitude toward transsexual people that books from this community can have. It did have the 'transsexual people are over there, and strange and exotic' attitude I expect from cross-dresser types of people, which I guess is okay, but it feels weird 'cause I'm like, 'I don't feel exotic.'
So, I don't know. It started me thinking about whether I might think boy-identified, male-assigned crossdresser people are on the same team as female-iodentified, MAAB people, but that everybody's got different coping mechanisms that lead folks to pick a team in the bowling league that is gender, but my jury's still out.
Holy crap, David Weisner is my boyfriend. (It's cool, me and Junot were never monogs.) I wish that I could be best friends with a cloud. This is like,Holy crap, David Weisner is my boyfriend. (It's cool, me and Junot were never monogs.) I wish that I could be best friends with a cloud. This is like, what if Aimee Bender stories were way more innocent, and didn't have any words?...more